


Names

by seraphim_grace



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-06
Updated: 2010-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/seraphim_grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a name between strangers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Names

The boy sat on the edge of the hotel bed like an offering in lavender silk pyjama pants and a long black ribbon holding back his wealth of hair in a loose ponytail at the back of his neck. He was in that stage between manhood and boyhood that held nothing but promise. He was beautiful, however, beyond the tenderness of his age, such that Treize wanted to thank Lady Une for such an offering, because she would be the only one to get him such a gift.

The boy was perfect, sat still but he had arranged his arms in such a way that it revealed the rosy nubs of his nipples. His skin was like cream, but darker at his neck and hands where they had caught the sun. What was truly enchanting, however, was the air about the boy that suggested that he was a virgin.

Une had the most amazing ability to pick them.

"What's your name?" He asked the boy.

"Does it matter?" The boy answered coyly, then he smiled, "It doesn't matter, so I won't tell you."

Treize shrugged, "there's a shawl on the back of the chair if you're cold." He said, the boy was delicious but anticipation was the best sauce and it was clear the boy was nervous. The boy nodded and pulled the blanket over his shoulders, flipping out his wealth of honey dark hair. His hair may not have been his best feature but it overwhelmed, it was the colour of a russet rose but his skin was the colour of wintry cream with pale pink lips and nipples. He was a beautiful boy, but it was clear from the stretch of his shoulders, the set of his hips and the size of his hands that he was a boy, there was nothing feminine about him except for his hair.

"I suppose you're wondering how I got in here."

Treize shrugged again and pulled down two glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of fine brandy, if the boy was here for what he thought he was a little liquor would help loosen what inhibitions he had left.

"I imagine Lady Une let you in, that she found you and brought you to me."

The boy smiled, a slow sinuous creep across his face. "No," he said, "I do not come from your Lady," he brushed down his hair, which was starting to agitate in the air conditioning. "I am," he stopped, "I am a gift," he said, "but not from your lady."

That startled Treize, it wasn't like any of his other generals to share such a prize, Une had an eye for boys that came from serving her general's interests for so long. Treize liked them like this, on the cusp of manhood, wanting but naive. It was a small window that he exploited because he liked to see the first flush of pleasure on their faces, their amazement as he touched them. That was his major turn on.

Some of the other officials liked them younger, they liked to mark them, to scar them and took their pleasure that way, but truth be told, it wasn't their youth that attracted Treize but their innocence.

"I am a gift from my own lady," his smile was small and private like he had a joke all his own to share, "she is not cruel, my lady, often," he smiled again, "and sometimes she is quick and sometimes slow, but," he stepped across to Treize, his feet bare on the thick nap of the carpet, "she can be kind, and I am one of her kindnesses."

"And what will I owe your lady for such a gift?" Treize asked, his very nature to be suspicious of things that didn't come with their prices clearly displayed.

"You have paid her price many times over," the boy said, he reached up to touch Treize's face, "you could say I was her angel." He laughed a little to himself, enjoying the joke as the boy more and more agitated Treize.

"Who are you?" He asked, grabbing the boy's wrist in his hand, tight enough to hurt though the boy did not flinch.

"If you must give me a name," the boy said with a laugh, "call me Gabriel." It was obviously not his name but it had been chosen quite deliberately.

"Are you here to kill me?" Treize asked. Those large almost man's hands seemed capable, the boy's eyes, which were a pretty lavender blue, were hard enough to kill him without reservation.

"No," the boy said and lifted the glass of brandy that Treize had poured him, the shawl slipping from one shoulder to gather around a slim elbow. "I am simply a gift from my lady." He pressed his lips together before he took a sip of the liqueur. "I am yours to do with as you see fit."

"And if I take a knife from this drawer and slit your throat?" Treize asked.

"You will never learn what my lady can teach," The boy answered with a slight smile, "but I won't try to stop you, that is not why I am here."

"And what would your lady have me learn?" Treize was almost frightened, this boy with his soft ways menaced him in a way he did not like.

"Not to fear her," the boy said and laying down the brandy he took Treize's hand and pressed his finger tip to the open vee of the shawl around his shoulders, "to welcome her, she is never far from you now, and that you must accept her love."

"Why?" Treize asked, afraid and humbled before this child.

"She was the first one to hold you when you were born," the boy said quietly, "and she will hold your hand at the last." The boy cupped Treize's cheek with a cool palm, "she knows you, and she loves you." He offered him a small smile with thin pink lips, "and I am her way of saying that to you."

"You are?"

"I am Gabriel." The boy answered cryptically. "Her gift," then he smiled, "do you not want to kiss me?" And Treize did want to kiss him, he wanted to taste the expensive brandy on the boy's mouth, he wanted to press those petal soft lips, slick as they were with gloss against his own, to arch the boy back, to lift those sleek thighs about his shoulders and ride the boy till morning. He did none of those things; instead he stepped away with the brandy in his hand to put some distance between them.

"Do you know who I am, boy, to play such games with me?"

The boy sat back on the end of the bed, his legs slightly parted and the shawl dropping around against his back, welled in the crook of his elbows. "Does it matter, here in this place? There is but one agenda between us, names are irrelevant here. But if you must tell me your name I will not stop you." He smiled then, a quick lift of the left side of his mouth, "it will give me something to call out later."

"Alexander," Treize lied, "my name is Alexander."

The right side of the boy's mouth twisted up in a parody of the left side, it was faintly mocking, "not Alex, not Al, not Andy, not Lex, not Xander, but Alexander?" he asked with that mocking smile upon his lips. "How very formal," then the smile was impish and playful, "I shall simply call you Alex, it fits easier in the mouth."

"And you? Do you have a nickname?" Treize was finding it hard to think with the boy in front of him.

"I have many names," the boy answered, "some of them I even answer to, as I said it does not matter what you call me, I shall rid you of the power of speech soon enough, your grunts will tell me what I want to know."

Treize couldn't help himself, he could feel his erection forming, pressing against the heavy wool of his uniform, he wanted this boy, and he was scared of him, and he wanted him most because he was scared of him.

He went to the phone and used it for a moment to calm himself. He did not like the way this boy, this virgin, could move him. He ordered food and wine. "You're too thin," he said settling the handset, "you look like you could use a good meal and I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Thank you." The boy said quietly. "But it doesn't change what's between us."

"No," Treize agreed, "it doesn't."

 

The boy ate with a ravening desire. Normally when lovers ate in front of each other it was with the need to make the other aware of the promise between them, to draw attention to the mouth, to phallic objects, to the taste of wine upon the lips. There was none of that with the boy.

He ate like he hadn't seen food in a week.

Treize had ordered a small chicken for the boy, stuffed with elderberries and sage, with roast potatoes and a mixture of broccoli and cauliflower in the lake of gravy. He was beginning to think, watching the way the boy's sharp white teeth tore into the meat of the chicken, he might have been better ordering a cow.

The boy did not bother with cutlery. He used his hands to tear the bird apart as Treize picked at his own much smaller meal with a sort of envious disdain. The boy was making grunting pleased sounds as he chewed the meat, forcing as much potato and vegetable into his mouth, chewing and then drinking down the elderflower cordial that accompanied the meal to fit more into his mouth.

He didn't speak. He just ate. He wiped up gravy with the potato, licking the lingering oil off his fingers, before driving them into the carcass to pull away a bone and the meat attached before ripping that away with his sharp white teeth.

Treize wasn't sure what he envied – the boy's obvious enjoyment of the meal or the lack of etiquette with which he devoured it. He tore open one of the small loaves of bread that had accompanied it and slavered it with butter, finally using one of the utensils, gobbling it down as quickly.

When he was done, and he sat sucking his fingers he looked at Treize's small goulash and raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to eat that?" he asked, "it's a shame to let food go to waste."

"Is that one of the lessons of your lady?" Treize interlaced his fingers under his chin as the boy took the bowl from in front of him.

"No," the boy said, ripping apart the bread to sop up the spicy goulash, "I learnt that one on my own." He belched, covering his mouth with a piece of bread. Talking, it seemed, didn't stop him eating. "There were these people, on Earth, way before the colonies, and they ate everything they had when they had it, and then went hungry until they had more so they didn't waste any." He took another mouthful of the elderflower cordial, wiping his mouth with his bare wrist, the shawl almost lost between his back and the chair, "it's a good way to eat."

Treize just nodded. He had never gone hungry.

"This is good," he said as he poured cordial into the glass, Treize had ordered himself a small pot of earl grey tea which he now lingered over, the smell of the bergamot soothing him. "What is it?"

"The stew or the drink?" Treize asked.

"Both," the boy said with the terrible innocence of youth. So Treize told him.

"Would you like dessert?" he asked after the boy had cleared both plates of anything that was vaguely edible.

The boy belched again, "nah," he said, "it's a shame to waste food, and well, I might want something else later." Then he laughed, "I think it's 'cause I'm at that stage where I'm growing so I'm like constantly hungry, and I could just eat and eat and eat. It's best to say no when I've got a belly full rather than order more and carry it on my thighs." He pulled the shawl back up around his shoulders, "although that tea smells nice, can I have some?"

He didn't bother pouring the boy another cup, he just handed him the cup he was drinking from. "Don't you drink this with milk?" he asked, completely without guile. "I have a friend and he says that only green tea is drunk without milk."

"It depends on taste." Treize told him, "I don't like milk in my earl grey. It pollutes the flavour."

The boy sipped the tea in a surprisingly delicate manner in comparison to the way he had eaten. He rolled the flavour about his lips, his tongue flicking out. "The tea is smooth but there's something else that's kinda bitter." He took another sip of the tea, "I think I prefer the tea you get in Morocco."

Treize smiled, "Moroccan tea is an acquired taste."

The boy arranged his shawl more carefully, so that it bared his arms and smiled, "it blows the mind." His arms were strong and competent and his hands were well kept, his nails bitten to the quick but his skin was calloused and rough, obviously through hard work. This was not a boy who would normally present himself as a gift; this was a different kind of boy entirely.

This was the kind of boy that would normally be sent to kill him.

Yet, Treize knew, that if the boy had planned that then he would never have even seen him coming.

 

The boy drank his tea calmly, and even poured himself more, lying back in his chair, the shawl was a dull rose colour that highlighted his pale skin. The boy's eyes were the colour of a lilac rose, and his lips were like a pale pink rose. Slipping his coat from his shoulders Treize took to his feet.

Treize was a mortal man and mortal men had desires and needs and the boy was beautiful and brilliant and mortal men could only resist so much.

He pulled the boy's chair away from the table and leaned to taste the bergamot on the boy's petal soft lips.

The boy tasted of soft warmth and bergamot and smelled like angels ought to smell.

His hair was in loose tangles down the back of the chair, tied with a ribbon, it had the softness of feathers or loose strands of silk, like those that had hung down from his mother's lap loom. The boy's skin was warm and had the wondrous softness of youth. Slipping his hands behind the boy's back he squeezed the soft peach like flesh of the boy's ass and then lifted him. The boy smiled against his mouth as his tongue slipped out to taste him back, taking deep breaths though his nose.

He laid him out on the bed, taking into contrast the soft tones of the boy's skin against the white and gold jacquard of the comforter. The lilac satin pants were almost as soft as the boy's skin and his feet were cold and ticklish.

Treize ran his fingertips the length of the arch of the boy's feet listening to a hissed giggle. "Your feet are cold," Treize told him.

"Do you want me to get under the covers?" The boy smirked and it was playful and pretty.

"You could put socks on." The boy's laugh was musical and his entire body rocked with it. It went straight to Treize's cock.

"Alexander," the boy laughed, "naked in socks? I'm not that much of a rube." He wriggled prettily, slipping the lavender satin pants from his slim hips. He had the shoulders of an older boy, but his hips were still those of a young boy, and his thighs were slim, there was even a large scab on his knee where he had fallen at some point. It just added to his beauty, the dark brown and purple scab against peach white skin.

"Lovely," Treize said and lowered his mouth to the curve of the boy's calf.

The boy laughed, "Most men would have gone straight for the ass," he said.

"I am not most men," Treize corrected him, "and I take my pleasure in other ways, your lady sent you to me because perhaps we both have something to learn from this encounter." He dragged his cheek the length of the boy's sternum, "and isn't this your first time?"

The boy's blush was charming. It slipped along his plump cheekbones and down his neck to the swell of his pectorals.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Treize said softly, "I suppose it makes me a very bad man that I find that one of your most charming features." He smiled to himself as the boy blushed and veritably glowed. "I'm a bad, bad man," Treize said with a smile, "and showing you the first pleasures of the flesh will really be my pleasure indeed."

The boy laughed again and pulled Treize's face along to kiss him. The boy arched into the kiss, his hands, which were as large as a man's even if the rest of him wasn't, slipping up into Treize's hair even as his tongue did his best to pull him down.

The boy's heart beat was warm and even against his chest, the boy was quick and playful, as one hand slowly tugged on his ear and the other made quick work of his tie. Treize had discovered with the kisses that it he might have been allowed to top the boy, but he was completely mistaken if he thought he was in charge.

The boy was playful and curious, determined to be kissed, and unwilling to give up Treize's mouth even as his hands wandered. He made soft little humming noises that were almost moans in the back of his throat. Treize smiled into the kiss, a predator's smile that slunk across his face, this boy would be a screamer.

He pulled away from the boy's mouth reluctantly, the boy lifting off the bed to chase his mouth with his own. "Close your eyes, boy," Treize said gruffly, "or I'll come undone." The boy's eyes were like burning stars. There was no mercy in them. They consumed him. He was completely controlled by the boy and the impenetrable fire in a pair of eyes the colour of twilight.

The boy didn't close his eyes.

The boy was in the terrible place between manhood and youth and although his shoulders and hands were those of a man, his arms and his thighs were still those of a child. His cock, standing erect from nothing more than kisses, was still pencil thin and only had a sparse coating of hair. His ass was a perfect peach and Treize wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the meat of it, to worship it. He knew in that instant that he worshipped this boy, and in turn the lady he served.

He knew that love could last lifetimes but he hadn't known it could last a single night. He would have this boy for a single night, and knew his life would be lived in increments of before and after this night with this boy. He also knew that although the boy had given his name as Gabriel it was neither his name nor what he thought to answer to.

The boy was all hands. He touched everywhere he could reach and prettily pouted that he was no longer kissed. Treize wanted to look at him, to drink in the beauty of this boy but all he could see was a pair of eyes as dark and beautiful as twilight, yet just as damning. Looking at his hair, which was the pale brown of burnished oak, and his eyes which were the same lavender as the pants he had discarded on the floor, he wondered if the boy was even human, or a gift from the great gods, and to what fealty he owed the boy's mysterious lady.

The boy's hands found the bulge of Treize's erection through his soft white trousers, rubbing him through the fabric but without skill. Rather than surrounded the bulge he rubbed it hard with the pads of his fingertips. "Not yet," Treize murmured slithering down the boy's body, using his nails against the boy's torso and arms.

"When I was a child I had an Ayah," he said, "my nanny, and when my father died she joined my mother in her bedchamber. I was terribly jealous," his breath was tickling the boy's navel as he fumbled about for the bottle of oil on the bedside. "I thought the very worst, that my mother and my ayah didn't need me any more." He knelt up over the boy, his thighs on either side of the boy's and poured the oil unto his chest and then rubbed it in carelessly. "But Ayah was only helping my mother with her grief, she did this," Treize ran his nails the length of the boy's torso and the boy arched. "When making love people forget about things like this, like teeth and nails, tell me, do you like it when I scratch you."

It sounded like it should be painful but the friction was reduced by the oil leaving nail marks like trails of golden fire down his skin, he rubbed a pale pink nipple with oily fingers before returning his nails to the skin, down the boy's arms and over his hips. He avoided his crotch completely for now.

The boy was writhing under the touch, pushing his hips up, trying to get some friction on his thin cock but Treize slipped one hand under his peach bottom and turned him then using more of the softly scented oil devoted himself to scratching the boy's back, ass and thighs.

The boy moaned, pushing his hips into the mattress and Treize knew he could bring the boy with nothing more than this, just his nails and the oil and the soft breathing against the back of his neck under his wealth of oak coloured hair.

He lifted the boy's hips until the boy was on his knees and then he turned. The boy was wet with need, making appealing squeaks and squeals, drowning in a pleasure that he had never known. He was lost in this, in the desire when he had obviously only ever known the pleasure of his own hand.

"I want to drink you," Treize said softly, rubbing his rough cheek against the soft skin of the boy's ass. "Turn over." The boy flopped unto his back his face turned away and his arm over his burning eyes.

Treize lowered his mouth over the pencil thin erection and the boy screamed, his entire back arching and with one hand around the base of it, making sure the boy could feel the different textures he rode through the boy's orgasm.

There was a sweetness to drinking down the first taste of a boy's sexuality that was unrivalled by anything in nature. Of all the ways to deflower someone and take their virginity that Treize enjoyed, it was this that was sweetest and all it had taken was his nails down his back and the sight of his mouth around his cock.

The boy lay there against the pillows, with a look that had both wonderment and cat cream satiation about it, the flush was only now fading from his throat and chest and he was still biting into his lips, his palms were rubbing the fabric of the coverlet as if to ground himself. Then he held his arms out to Treize, without shifting the sprawled position of his body or the wanton way he lay there. "Kiss me." He said, so Treize did.

The boy kissed like he was drowning.

He kissed like he was trying to crawl up inside Treize's mouth and die there. He tugged at his tie and then when it was loose with a quick jerk from those man's hands he ripped open the shirt.

His hands were rough and dry, the skin callused and hardened through some labour, though Treize's were soft and manicured. The fact that the boy's nails were bitten just made it hotter in Treize's opinion.

Treize wanted this boy, but it was clear that the boy owned him completely.

When he turned them over so the boy lay on top of him, making it harder for the boy to wrest away his pants with the ease that he had removed his shirt, the boy just laid his peach soft cheek against his pectorals and breathed in the scent of him.

"Doesn't this make your lady jealous?" Treize asked softly.

"Should it?" The boy answered, the raw edge had been taken off his hunger with the orgasm, which was why Treize had done it, his skin sensitised from the scratching, "she's not the jealous type."

"It must be nice to believe in something so magnanimous."

The boy laughed, "I wouldn't say that about her, she is just the beginning and the end, she is the garden at the end of a hard road and she is the fountain at the last of a hot day. They used to worship her, you know," his voice was soft and dreamy whilst his fingers played idle games with Treize's nipple, "before the colonies, there were prayers to her and she was welcomed, she's not any more."

"Why not?" Treize asked, he knew now rather than suspected that the boy's lady was a supernatural force.

"Because," the boy said and then with nimble fingers he undid Treize's pants and left him with that as his answer.

And even lying there on the hotel bed with his shirt torn to shreds and his pants open, his cock half erect against his thigh, with a beautiful boy laying along him like a comforter Treize knew who the boy's lady was, and what truly surprised him was that he was neither afraid nor surprised. In fact, he felt honoured by her attention and her gift.

The boy's hand was not nervous but it was unskilled, it was clumsy and heavy and not without its charms because of that. It rubbed and it pulled and it played. The boy was not seducing him; he was learning and trying things. He was pushing and pulling, playing and rubbing against him.

The boy was determined and what he lacked in skill he more than made up for in enthusiasm.

He rubbed and he writhed, he twisted and ground his hips as he sucked on his tongue, nipping at his lips and tugging at his hair, both the hair on his head and the wiry wispy hair of his crotch.

He rubbed his hands over the oil on his chest so that his hands were slick and then returned to Treize's hips and the valleys of his thigh and ass. It felt so good that he didn't think he wanted to stop it.

He did any way.

"Can I?" He asked.

The boy's smile was impish- it was playful and mischievous. He arched his back, rubbing his shoulders against the eider down, "oh yes please."

With more strength than showed in his slender frame he threw off Treize and then rolled over his so that he rested on his fore arms and thighs, wiggling his ass in the air.

With a smile of his own he cuffed the boy across his peach ass. The boy looked back across at him, "cheeky," Treize warned him.

"Do that again," he said, wiggling his ass even more and pushing it out in such a way that it was almost against Treize's face. He managed to run the flesh against the line of Treize's jaw in one of the sexiest manoeuvres Treize had ever run across, and although the boy was a virgin he was innovative and playful.

Treize slapped him again, with a large clapping sound that was louder than it would have hurt, it raised a pretty red welt and then Treize licked it. "Ooh," the boy said, "ooh," pushing his cheeks apart with his thumbs Treize looked at his rosy entrance and with a snicker he reached out with the very tip of his tongue and then lapped at it.

The boy groaned.

He moaned.

He wriggled and gasped.

Treize speared his tongue and slipped it inside. The boy arched and gasped and groaned all at the same time and Treize savoured the taste, which was salty sweet and musky as he bit into the boy's ass. He would lick and taste and then smooth his tongue on the warm outer flesh and sink his teeth in slowly.

The boy balled up the comforter in his fists, his head thrashing back and forth as he vocalised, loudly, his pleasure at this, his erection was bobbing happily against his thighs and it was only Treize's thumbs on his hips that held him back.

Treize himself was so hard it hurt, hanging out of the open fly of his trousers, "please," the boy whimpered, "please." And how could Treize deny him?

He fumbled about for the oil before he sat back for a moment to admire the work of beauty before him, the boy was arched pushing his ass as far back as he could with his elbows. He smiled and thanked the boy's lady for such a wondrous gift before he poured a pool of the sweet smelling oil unto the bowl that had been made at the base of the boy's spine.

The boy let out a throaty moan when he slipped his finger inside, trying to push back to force Treize to go past the single knuckle, but Treize held him back, laying biting and licking kisses on his ass, thighs and the small of his back. The boy whimpered. The boy whined and Treize denied him. "Please," the boy said, "please." And then, and only then, did Treize oblige him.

He slipped his finger in and began to move it, the boy wriggled again, his knees slipping on the comforter, it coming untucked in his hands, but Treize gave him no more. "Please," the boy said, because it had worked before, but Treize removed his finger instead.

"Patience, greedy," he said slapping the boy again, it was playful and although it wasn't gentle it wasn't punishment. It was all part of his foreplay like the scratching had been.

"More please," the boy said looking over his shoulder, his face flushed and his hair glued to his forehead with sweat. His glorious hair had freed itself from the ribbon he had used to tie it and Treize wondered if he could use the ribbon to tie the boy's wrists later. He knew that this boy was his for the night, for as many times as he needed. "You can hurt me if you like," the boy said with probably the most innocent expression Treize had seen on him, "you won't be the first." Treize blinked at him and then withdrew his fingers.

He wiped them down on the coverlet before he picked up the phone, he spoke briefly into the receiver before he turned back to the boy, "why did you stop?"  
Treize ran a comforting hand down his back, "you are a gift," he said softly, "and should be treasured as such." He smoothed down the boy's hair, "I'm going to take a shower."

"No," the boy said, "I cannot and will not stand for this, you get me ready to go and then decide you'd rather have a shower and a date with your right hand." The boy launched himself at Treize pinning him to the bed. "You're mine and I'm not in the mood to be treated gently, you will lie there and I will use you for my pleasure." He pinned Treize with his thighs before he kissed him again, not letting Treize kiss him back. "Mine," he said firmly and then slithered down Treize's body and wrapped one of those large hands around his cock.

In comparison to his own Treize's cock was huge, the boy had yet to come into the growth that seemed to happen overnight to boy's of his age. The boy looked at it and then at Treize and smiled. Treize just let his head fall back as the boy's tongue began to play.

It was too large for the boy to comfortably fit it into his mouth but that didn't stop him trying and licking at him like a kitten at cream. He ran his tongue up and down as if it was a Popsicle whilst his hand ran through the copper curls at its base. He spat into his hand and used that to push and nudge at Treize's anus and Treize didn't think to stop him. If the boy wanted to top him he would more than let him.

Then with a smile and a nip to the very crown that Treize thought would drive him mad he climbed up over and it and using his hand to guide him, slipped down over Treize's erection. He did it with a gasp, because it must have hurt, if only stinging, because it was his first time and he wasn't properly stretched. He bit his lips and sucked at them and then he smiled. "It's different," he said, "but not unpleasant," then he finished his descent.

The boy was hot as hell and tight to boot. His thighs were hot and dry against his hips as he pushed a palm against his pectorals, "when you're ready," the boy said in a voice that was sin itself, "move."

How could mortal man resist? He rolled his hips and the boy rolled with him and it was divine and hellish, holy and obscene all at once, he slipped out of him so that just the head remained and made small slow circles with his hips watching the boy react and roll with it, his palm flat against Treize's pectorals, and in the next room he could hear room service delivering the cake he had ordered, and knew that he was fucking this boy, this vision, this demon, who smelled like angels ought to smell.

He took his time and watched the boy undulate and surge above him like a tide or an army cresting a hill. His hair was a million oak coloured whips lashing about his thin chest and broad, man's shoulders. He was beautiful, simultaneously damned and saved. He was everything and with an arch of the hips that drove him down deep into the boy Treize came and came and came.

Above him the boy slammed down his hips and arched his back, his nails driving into the meat of Treize's pectorals as he ejaculated in a perfect arc. It splattered down across Treize's chest and throat and he felt blessed and honoured to have received such a gift, that his orgasm had triggered the boy's.

The boy rolled off him with a happy sigh, lying against the curve of his neck and by the time Treize rolled beside him to run his fingers along his spine and over the curve of his perfect ass the boy was asleep.

 

Treize awoke to a softly laid kiss on his forehead. The boy had brushed out his wealth of hair into a tight braid tied with the black ribbon. He had tugged on his lavender silk pants but wore nothing else in the pre dawn grey. "Take the shawl, it'll be cold out," Treize murmured into the pillow, "and there are slippers in the cupboard." The boy kissed him again and thanked him softly. "And the cake in the other room."

Then the boy softly laid his hand on Treize's bare shoulder, "know my lady loves you, and," he paused taking a deep breath, "thank you." And Treize was not sure he had even heard him.

 

Duo knocked on the door to the hotel room, shifting the heavy shawl about his shoulders. Heero sat on the bed with his laptop between his legs looking up as Duo set the chocolate cake down on the table. "Was it worth it?" Heero asked.

Duo smiled to himself and then stretched, feeling the delicious sensation of bones popping as he wriggled. "Oh, yes." He said, he gave himself a wickedly self indulgent smile, "definitely yes."


End file.
